


Stories of the Second Self: In Name and Title

by John_Steiner



Series: Alter Idem [147]
Category: Urban Fantasy - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:27:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/John_Steiner/pseuds/John_Steiner
Summary: Olivia and her new husband, Kareem found themselves the inheritors of eight million dollars and a rundown hotel from a deceased great uncle. Already struggling to cope with the fact she'd undergone a change, Olivia finds the realtor's uneasiness when directing them to the hotel foreboding, yet can't place why. However, once inside she comes face to face with her great uncle, Delane Henry.
Series: Alter Idem [147]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1618813





	Stories of the Second Self: In Name and Title

"What a gorgeous house," was the first words out of Kareem's mouth.

Olivia however, saw a shitload of work ahead of her and Kareem. They'd only gotten married a couple months ago, and then this landed in her lap. She didn't even know her great uncle, let alone that anyone in her family had that kind of money to leave eight million and an old hotel in their will. Being black in Ohio pretty much excluded rich, and only luck brought black people up to middle class.

"We're glad you like it, Mr. Watts," the Coldwell Banker rep said.

The rep, Mr. Morris smiled warmly, but the sides of his neck were flush, as though he were scared. Olivia knew that from a glance, though she couldn't say it out loud, as it was a subtler sign than most people would've noticed. Mr. Morris was already uncomfortable as it was.

"Can you tell me more about my great uncle, and how he made it big like this?" Olivia asked.

"Ahh," Mr. Morris' discomfort intensified enough for Kareem to notice, she could tell as Morris went on, "I spoke with him recently enough that I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to get to hear that yourself."

Morris then positioned himself between the couple and gently ushered them both up the cobblestone walk to the front entrance. He hurried ahead of them to get the door, but he didn't follow Olivia and Kareem inside, simply let the door close.

Olivia stepped over to the nearest window to the left of the door to see the man walk briskly to his own car and get in with all haste. She got that tremor down her neck that she came to realize was her newly found intuition warning her.

"Even without the money, we got it made baby," Kareem soothed and wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Got our own place, got jobs out of it, an' all that craziness around the city isn't gonna bring us down."

"I'm glad you approve, Mr. Watts," spoke a chipper ray-of-morning-sun voice carrying a hint of liquid Creole accent, as steps descended the stairs.

Both of them turned, and Olivia noticed that while Kareem moved around to be at her side he seemed a bit in front, as though he were about to shield her from whoever came down from the upper floor.

"Do you work with Mr. Morris?" Olivia asked.

"You could say he cooperates with me," the voice answered, as a Saint Laurent suit and shoes polished to a red oak finish entered into view.

Olivia next saw elaborate rings adorning fingers, and then gold caps on the ends of dreadlocks. The photos of her uncle had those same features, yet it was a twenty-something man's face that revealed himself. Pale, to be sure, with a sullenness of cheek and temple, reminding Olivia of her dad's funeral.

Except this deathly pallid man still moved, though not into the light of the main foyer. Even with dark-lens sunglasses, Olivia noticed that the man squinted.

The stylishly suited man held out a hand to her. "You must be my great-niece, Olivia Henry-Watts. It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

Stepping somewhat around Kareem, Olivia accepted the hand of the man acting as her great uncle in some weird performance art scene.

"Ahh, such a warm touch," the man noted with the handshake.

In contrast to his being too cold, Olivia realized as she replied, "My family told me my great uncle was-- unusual. Did his final preparations include hiring an actor so I'd know what he was like?"

"My precious Olivia," the man's voice fluttered with thespian panache, before he took off his sunglasses. "This is, well, you'll need to brace yourself. I'm your great uncle, Delane Henry."

Olivia jumped at the revelation of solid black eyes. She and Kareem both stared before Kareem remarked, "Nice contacts. You really got me with those."

Delane, for Olivia was sure now he wasn't lying about his identity, reached into his suit jacket to take out a handkerchief of matching fabric with the suit, and used those to remove something from his mouth. He held out for their view a set of false teeth, and smiled to reveal the curved razors he had been concealing.

"It's no performance young man," Delane stated for them both. "I didn't have to fake my death," and pointed to Olivia. "One of my employees pointed out your recent change to me, and and that of all my living family you could best be trusted with this property."

Olivia felt a cold flash at the thought that anyone knew her secret, since she hadn't yet broken the news to Kareem. She didn't know if he could accept her once realizing there was another side he'd not seen. At night, after Kareem went to sleep, she's slip out of bed into the bathroom to dry-shave the sides and back of her neck.

All the while, Olivia listened for Kareem's movements, which she could make out well enough to know which were from sleep and those that were when he was conscious. Sometimes, when Kareem was awake, Olivia thought she could smell his mood from the other room.

"If...," Olivia swallowed, not sure what to make of Delane, meaning whatever he was now. "If you're still alive why do you need me to run your hotel? Hiring me to handle the front desk or whatever else you had in mind would be cheaper than eight million."

The day Olivia got the notice in a personalized stationary envelop, she had to read it over several times, and then again with Kareem saying it out loud with her, before she'd believe that she had actually inherited so much money from a relative she'd never seen.

"The problem is, Olivia," Delane paused and placed his left hand into his right leveling both toward her in a single shake. "The truth is that I'm not alive. Not in the legal or medical sense."

Stories were going around town and on the net about all manner of strange sightings, but the idea that someone could die and still move around wasn't among them.

"Serious man?" Kareem tilted his head while leaning forward a tad, as if to get a different perspective and check if this were a joke.

"Before I explain, I have to ask if you read both sides of the condolence card," Delane said and turn his left hand palm up to lay back into his right. "Those conditions are quite serious."

Nodding, Olivia readily answered, "Yes, we read them. Strict confidentiality. And yes, I'll sign whatever you need notarized."

"Kareem?" Delane turned a politely expecting expression to her husband.

"Oh, yeah," Kareem said just as quickly, no longer taking this as a prank. "No sweat. I'll lay my sig down wherever you need, man."

"You felt my hand, Olivia," Delane looked back at her, or as best she could tell without discernible pupils, iris, or scarla in Delane's eyes, as he added, "Say what you think."

"You... you're dead," Olivia said, and felt at once like she'd been offensive. "I'm sorry, if that came out wrong, but...."

"It's quite alright." Delane staved off her apology. "I really did die, and then I woke up to find three days had passed. I'd-- soiled myself, of course. It's a postmortem thing. I've seen it before."

"My dad used to tell me about how his dad's family had it rough in New Orleans back then," Olivia said, as though giving Delane her condolences. "Do you know what this is that happened to you?"

"The earliest tales my...," Delane corrected himself and waved to Olivia, "our people tell is of Sasabonsam, though I think vampire is more correct. I don't have iron teeth, and my feet definitely aren't hooks."

Now it was Olivia's turn to show a face of doubt, but not that she disbelieved her great uncle Delane was putting her on. "And this just, just happened to you?"

"Yes, and a few years earlier than most," Delane revealed, "I was able to hide it for a while, but there are enough of us now that sooner or later people will know. I could be reclusive in the Ninth Ward of New Orleans, but out here that won't do. And I do need to be where my properties are for when the big news breaks."

"Where do we come in then?" Olivia wouldn't have guessed a Ninth Ward resident could afford real estate of any kind, let alone in upper scale neighborhoods in another state.

"You see, legally dead I can't own anything," Delane explained, casually holding his fingertips to his chest and shaking his head, "Can't manage my estate without having to explain my death certificate," and then raised his lifeless hands out to them. "At least not yet. It'll take at least a year, maybe longer, but I'm going to make some calls and pull a few favors that are owed me.

"In the meantime," Delane addressed Olivia and Kareem. "You'll hold this hotel in perpetuity, as it were, for which I am paying you and granting residency here. You have enough to manage the place, and you'll make back more than you pay into utilities, maintenance, and operating costs."

Olivia was, for a moment, curious what sort of strings her great uncle was going to pull. However, with the other stories she'd heard about Delane's, er, hobbies and interests, she was sure that she didn't want details, and so asked for none.

"Thank you, Great Uncle Delane," Olivia said, putting her hands together and leveling them out to him. "Thank you so much."

"Just Delane is fine," he assured, and took both of Olivia's hands into his, and then reached for Kareem's hands to cradle them all into his cold but gentle grip. "Names have power. Never forget that."


End file.
